100 Little Rantings
by Vague Apparitions
Summary: My response to Bluegoo2's 100 drabble/one-shot challenge, with varying genres. Rated K-plus for now, but that may easily be bumped to a T. Please read and review. Now playing: Inventions - Steampunk AU. Danny runs into a new invention, which he finds completely annoying. And why does it keep saying, "Fear me?"
1. The List

**OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER:**

**I do not own Danny Phantom. Butch Hartman does.**

**This is Bluegoo2's challenge.**

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**Bluegoo2's One Hundred One-Shot Challenge:**

1. Remember  
2. Lies  
3. Justice  
4. Look Out  
5. Apology  
6. Sickness  
7. Sunshine  
8. Guardian Angel  
9. Math  
10. Heartbeat  
11. Technology  
12. Job  
13. Endings  
14. Spots and Dots  
15. Animal  
16. Music  
17. Weapons  
18. Ghost  
19. Quick Enough  
20. Don't Let Go  
21. Patience  
22. Flames  
23. Lucky Shot  
24. The World Turned Upside Down  
25. A Grand Adventure  
26. Party  
27. Thoughts  
28. Rules  
29. Last Laughs  
30. Chills  
31. Stuck  
32. Bored  
33. Movies  
34. Limbo  
35. Dance with Me  
36. Superstar  
37. Compromise  
38. Save Me  
39. Fury  
40. Changes  
41. Worthless  
42. Fame and Fortune  
43. Fountain  
44. Piece of My Mind  
45. Star Struck  
46. Runaway  
47. Fruit Loop  
48. Thrill  
49. Wishes  
50. Never  
51. Eclipse  
52. Discoveries  
53. Challenges  
54. Freefall  
55. Oops  
56. Name Calling  
57. Failure  
58. Tag  
59. Present  
60. Emotion  
61. Unexpected  
62. Only Human  
63. Explosion  
64. Trial and Error  
65. Holiday  
66. Visit  
67. Inventions  
68. Haunt  
69. Mixed Signals  
70. Life  
71. Homework  
72. Seasons  
73. Clueless  
74. Tips and Tricks  
75. Surprises  
76. Destroy  
77. Attention  
78. Practice Makes Perfect  
79. Graduation  
80. Fake  
81. Stop  
82. Outcast  
83. Hide  
84. The Key  
85. Stress  
86. Only Fair  
87. Spirit  
88. Guilty  
89. Damage  
90. Manners  
91. Transformation  
92. Forget  
93. Pet  
94. Outcast  
95. Space  
96. Opportunity  
97. Dessert  
98. Breaking Point  
99. Simple Advice  
100. Hunger


	2. 63 Explosion

**Genre: **General, I think. Maybe angst, too.

**Characters: **Danny.

**Author's Notes: **I'm taking the 100 drabble/one-shot challenge! :D These will just be little stories I write in my spare time, or when I have a bit of writer's block concerning my other stories. Huzzah.

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**63. Explosion**

_This is the way the world ends  
This is the way the world ends  
This is the way the world ends  
Not with a bang but a whimper._

**T. S. Eliot, "The Hollow Man"**

Pain. An explosion of searing, white-hot pain ripped through his body, tearing him apart with firey claws. Those claws lacerated his lungs, his vocal chords, his throat. He was mute, unable to shout, to scream; though he felt the white noise rush through his mouth, there was only silence.

Danny felt the pain seep into each of his cells, into his bones, into his soul, into every fiber of his being. He couldn't breathe; the pain had only forced the air from his lungs, which had shriveled in his chest, contracted into nothing. Light and darkness clashed before his eyes like lightning, colliding in a violent display.

Two words rang through his head. Two words, echoing through the agony.

_I'm dying._

Blissful numbness expanded throughout his body, which now felt almost nonexistant, like air. Darkness obscured his vision, and then there was no more sight. A slight whimper escaped Danny's lips.

Only when he awoke would he know that his hair had turned white.

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**Author's Notes: **I know there are others like it - drabbles and one-shots about Danny during the Ghost Portal accident. This is my version. I hope you like it.

As always, please take the time to review. Reviews are much appreciated, even if they are negative.


	3. 88 Guilty

**Warning: Character death.**

**Genre: **Angst; supernatural; a bit of horror.

**Characters:** Danny and Valerie.

**Author's Notes:** There's a character death in this one-shot. There is also another poem. Did anyone notice I like opening my stories with poems? I do. They inspire me a lot, and if I did not open with the poem which inspired me, it would be a bloody shame. Poems are awesome.

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**88. Guilty**

_When by thy scorn, O murd'ress, I am dead,  
And that thou thinkst thee free  
From all solicitation from me,  
Then shall my ghost come to thy bed,  
And thee, feign'd vestal, in worse arms shall see :  
Then thy sick taper will begin to wink,  
And he, whose thou art then, being tired before,  
Will, if thou stir, or pinch to wake him, think  
Thou call'st for more,  
And, in false sleep, will from thee shrink :  
And then, poor aspen wretch, neglected thou  
Bathed in a cold quicksilver sweat wilt lie,  
A verier ghost than I.  
What I will say, I will not tell thee now,  
Lest that preserve thee; and since my love is spent,  
I'd rather thou shouldst painfully repent,  
Than by my threatenings rest still innocent._

**John Donne, "The Apparition"**

Each night, Valerie Gray lay awake in her bed. She could not sleep, for the ghost sat there, staring at her contemptuously. The ghost appeared exactly as before, though this time, he bore a gape in his chest that never seemed to heal, over where his heart would have been – precisely where she had shot him.

The instrument of her deed now lay under her bed, broken into pieces. She couldn't bear to look at it anymore, even though she had only destroyed a ghost – or so she thought. He wasn't gone – not yet –, and Valerie couldn't understand why he had chosen to haunt her, or why he brandished the mark she made. Still, the girl couldn't help but to feel like a murderer somehow.

She swallowed hard. She shook. The spirit would never leave her alone. He had begun to appear during the day, had begun to follow Valerie – unseen to all except her –, always glaring, always both angry and sorrowful, always reminding her that she _killed_, that her soul was stained, tainted with the sin of taking life. . or, rather, afterlife. What right did she have to deprive him of it?

Valerie had thought him an ordinary ghost, but she had obviously been wrong. For some reason, he was still here. He should have been obliterated. Perhaps she would feel less remorse if he was entirely erased from existence. Unfortunately, that was not the case. He was there, never leaving, always following, always full of disgust and hate, always driving her closer to the brink of insanity with each passing moment.

The ghost had even followed Valerie to Danny Fenton's funeral. Valerie's classmate had died unexpectedly, though no one knew exactly the reason why. Most assumed that he had gotten into a lab accident. The phantom had sat on the boy's tombstone, pointing downward as he glowered at her, as if to accuse without words, "This is your fault. You did this."

And she did.

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**Author's Notes: **So, what do you think? Is Danny really haunting Valerie or is he a manifestation of her guilt? Either way, it's time to beg for reviews. I don't necessarily _feel_ like begging, though, so I will ask nicely. Review, please?


	4. 46 Runaway

**Genre: **General. Angst, too, I suppose.

**Characters: **Danny and Freakshow.

**Author's Notes: **This doesn't happen in "Steam Machine," for the record. I'm just setting it in the same universe. So, really, it's an AU of my AU. Does that even make any sense? o.0?

I blame the "Herr Drosselmeyer's Doll" bit on Abney Park. That's a great song.

Oh! Once again, it's the attack of the Victorian ads. I actually started this a while ago, after posting the third chapter of "Steam Machine." So, yeah. I was on a kick.

For the record, I'm somewhat disappointed in the lack of fictions involving Freakshow. Freakshow is cool.

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**46. Runaway  
**"**Steam Machine" Verse**

"**FREAKS! ODDITIES! ACTS WHICH DEFY THE LAWS OF PHYSICS!  
**_SEE_ HERR DROSSELMEYER'S CLOCKWORK DOLL _BROUGHT TO LIFE_ BEFORE YOUR EYES! _WATCH_ LYDIA, THE INVINCIBLE WOMAN, SURVIVE THE_ IRON MAIDEN_! _WATCH_ THE CONTORTIONIST TWIST INTO _UNNATURAL POSITIONS_! COME _SEE _THE WORLD'S STRONGEST MAN! _OBSERVE_ THE MASTER OF DEATH, _THE GRIM_ _REAPER_ _HIMSELF_, _DEFY GRAVITY_ ON THE HIGH-WIRE! AN ARRAY OF STRANGE ACTS TO _SATISFY YOUR MORBID CURIOSITIY_!  
COME TO _**CIRCUS GOTHICA**_!"

Danny laid on the mildly deteriorating, wooden floor of the train. In his hand, he read the old flyer, making a mental checklist of each act listed.

The Drosselmeyer's Doll act? _Overshadowing._

Torture? _Intangibility._

Contortionism? _Ha! Easy. . . for a ghost, anyway._

The world's strongest man? _Ghosts couldn't strain under weight._

The Grim Reaper? _What's gravity to a ghost?_

Danny, or the "Master of Death," could walk along a rope that was approximately one-third of an inch thick and about sixty feet above the circus floor. He could do a hand-stand on a real, razor-sharp scythe that was precariously perched on the previously-mentioned wire. He didn't tremble, didn't flinch, and didn't even bat an eye – even if the scythe's blade sliced his hands a bit. A genuine scythe impressed the audience, especially when he proved to them that it was, in fact, very real and very deadly. (He did this after his act by lacerating the tight-rope with a single, clean swipe.)

Danny decided that joining the circus was one of the best decisions he'd ever made. He _liked_ performing. He _liked_ using his "talents" for something completely harmless. The shocked gasps of the audience members amused _him_ a little. On occasion, some ladies would faint, which caused him to worry instead of smirk. That was one out of three aspects of his job that he didn't like.

The second was the fact that he hardly slept at all. He couldn't really nap during the day, and his nights were restless. . . At least, he assumed that they were, for the third thing he didn't like about the circus was that he couldn't remember a single night since he'd arrived there.

The last night he recalled was the night he ran away from home. His parents caught him in the act of levitating above the bed as he slept, which led them to believe that he was overshadowed (which is a nice way of saying "possessed"). He argued with them, nervously babbling out that, no, he wasn't possessed, and that he was actually half-ghost, courtesy of the Fenton Portal.

Perhaps it wasn't the smartest idea, but at three in the morning, it was the only one he had.

Danny didn't stick around for their reactions. He was too terrified of being at the receiving end of an ectoplasmically-charged weapon. Instead, he backed into a wall, and then he backed _through_ it, praying that his still-uncontrollable powers wouldn't fail him. As he fell, he only thought of flying away as fast as he could. . . and of not splattering on the ground below.

_Too late_, he thought, realizing that the ground was approaching faster than he anticipated. He squeezed his eyes shut, ready for every bone in his body to splinter. Strangely enough, he didn't feel any pain upon impact. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes, only to find that he had phased into the ground.

Being a freak without anywhere to go, Danny decided that joining the circus was his best option. He'd seen the flyers for Circus Gothica; they were hard to miss, printed in garish colouring. In spite of the ironic colouring of the flyers, the show itself had an arcane feel about it. Even the gaiety of the ads seemed somehow sinister.

Circus Gothica publicized its oddities, and Danny was just that. One of the oddities. People paid good money to see out-of-the-ordinary acts. They wanted to be repulsed and awestruck at once. The owner of the circus – aptly nicknamed "Freakshow" – made sure that his performers were ready to demonstrate how bizarre they really were before and after the main shows. Freakshow not only served as the ringmaster of the circus, but also as a sideshow barker.

When Danny came along, Freakshow was delighted. Danny was a genuine half-ghost freak, one-of-a-kind and somewhat alive! Not even the famous P.T. Barnum had such a claim. In the competitive field of show business, the most unique took in the most money. And, without a doubt, Circus Gothica was the most unique.

While Freakshow raked in money, Danny was provided with somewhere to live. The train wasn't very clean and never stayed in one place for more than two weeks, but the ghost boy didn't mind much. He found somewhere where he fit in – especially since all of his fellow performers were ghosts. They didn't speak to him much (if they spoke to him at all), but Danny still felt a vague feeling of camaraderie.

As the train screeched to a halt, Danny sat up. They were at their next stop. He would have to help set up the tent and stands soon, as usual. Tickets would be sold at the door for the next two weeks, and every night, it would be show time. Every night, he'd walk the high-wire, scythe in hand, and would exhibit his peculiar state to the public. Every night, he'd hear gasps and jeers and laughter and applause. And every night, he would enter the train after a night of performing, only to forget everything that occurred after he stepped through the locomotive's threshold.

_This_, Danny thought, _is what freaky kids do when they run away and join the circus._


	5. 67 Inventions

**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing, but the "Steam Machine" AU is mine._

**Author's Notes:** _When prompted to work in an AU, I decided to write a little oneshot set in the universe of my "Steam Machine" fanfiction/AU. (Please give it a read if you haven't!) I thought this would be cute. Enjoy!_

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**67. Inventions**  
**Steampunk AU****  
**

Being a Fenton, Danny had gotten used to new gadgets being left around the house. They were in the lab and in the kitchen and in the parlor, and on tables and on countertops and on the floor. Most of the ones left around were left in various states of being unfinished, parts and tools scattered around them, and with the intention of being worked on later. Some of the "unfinished" projects were mostly finished, however; Maddie and Jack just had to fix any glitches before proclaiming it done and dubbing it with an appropriate title (no doubt with the word "Fenton" in it).

Danny came across one of those nearly-finished — but still unfinished — inventions as he returned home one day. It was sitting on table in the parlor, and Danny thought that it was one of the stranger-looking things his parents had invented. It looked like some sort of hybrid between a phonograph and a typewriter. It was clearly meant to write _something_, but the keys were protected under a glass cover, which was on a hinge and had to be lifted for the keys to be accessible — presumably for repairs only. Danny was at a loss as to what the horn-like speaker was for.

Curious, he approached it and carefully inspected it, not wanting to break anything, including himself. After all, it was sometimes difficult to discern what was a scientific instrument and what was an anti-ghost weapon, though this thing seemed to be pretty harmless. Danny ran a finger along the top of the typewriter, along the flat surface's edge, and muttered, "Weird…"

Almost immediately, the device whirred to life and Danny, startled, retracted his hand. He watched as the keys began to move and type on the loaded sheet of paper. With a soft _ding_, the its task was done, and on the paper, it read:

**Weird. Fear me.**

Danny frowned and said, "'Fear me?' But why does it say… Augh!" The boy crossed his arms and pouted as glared at the machine, which had begun to type again as he was talking. When it was finished, there was a word-for-word transcript of what he'd said, with another added "fear me."

To make matters worse, his mother came into the room. "Danny, I didn't even hear you come in. Did you have a good day at school?"

Danny turned his attention away from the machine and to his mother. "Yes."

**Yes. Fear me.**

"Good… Oh, it looks like this is acting up again," Maddie said as she went over to the device. "It really needs to be fixed."

"Fixed?"

**Fixed? Fear me.**

"It's not working right. See? It's writing everything you're saying, which is very strange. It really shouldn't do that. It's meant to interpret ghostly vocalizations and write what the ghost is saying. It's a bit like automatic writing, but without the influence and human error of a medium." Maddie paused for a moment. "Say something else."

"U-um…" Danny tried to think of what to say, but he was getting nervous. He swallowed hard, wondering if his mother was starting to get suspicious of him, and he found himself desperately trying to come up with contingency plans, in case he had to make a run for it. He took a deep breath and said, "Boo?"

**I am a ghost. Fear me.**

"Hm… The basic mechanics of it are working, but it shouldn't translate human speech, let alone just yours. Of course, it's nowhere near done and, with such a delicate piece of technology, it _won't_ be perfectly functioning at first. A few adjustments will have to be made before it can work correctly." Maddie fussed over the machine, musing over what needed to be fixed and what may have gone wrong with it. She didn't seem very suspicious of Danny at all — just concerned that the invention wasn't working — but he felt that he should leave the room while she was distracted.

"That's, um, really great, mom," Danny said, edging toward the stairs. "I'll be in my room." With that, he quickly went upstairs, internally screaming as he heard the sound of typing. Under his breath, he swore, "_God damn it!_"

**That's, um, really great, mom. I'll be in my room. God damn it! Fear me.**

Within the minute, Danny heard the voice of his mother shouting from downstairs, using his full name and telling him to get down the stairs that _instant_, or so help her —and that minute became the very minute he decided how much he hated that machine.


End file.
